


Listen

by miss_aligned



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mass Effect 2, Mass Effect 3, One Shot, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7475442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_aligned/pseuds/miss_aligned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaidan has heard a lot in the past few years, and all of it held significance for one reason or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen

Silence.

That’s all he could remember initially. After he called her name, desperate to receive a location, a status, any sort of reply, he heard nothing. It was the most crushing silence he’d ever endured in his life and he knew he’d never forget it. Somehow he’d overlooked the fact that Shepard wasn’t invincible, that she was too dedicated for her own good, that she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t let another friend die under her command if she could somehow prevent it. The silence reminded him of all of those things and more, like the words he’d wished he’d spoken to her before she’d slipped beyond his reach.

Heavy sighs.

He did it a lot in the months after the tragedy over Alchera. He didn’t realize it at first, but any time he thought of her and felt regret or guilt or pain, that same sound would escape him. It happened more frequently than he cared to admit. The frustration over being unable to find her and verify the status he’d feared or being able to mourn her loss openly the way he felt it in his heart made those heavy sighs nearly become his natural mode of breathing. He had to work to contain them as time wore on and everyone expected him to recover. He reminded himself to be strong and act as though everything was fine, just like she used to do. He hoped that, eventually, it would be.

Whispers.

He heard them every now and again. At first he wasn’t sure if it was the hopeful murmurs of his own mind or simply the cruel jokes of others. He was sad the first time it happened. Surely it was some sort of awful VI meant to make money on the loss of a hero. The second time, he was angry but refused to show it. The third and fourth, he began to wonder. Each time there were reports of Shepard being spotted here or there, he hoped they were wrong. He hoped they were right. He had almost forgotten what hope was, but he was slowly beginning to remember.

Screams.

The colonists’ cries echoed in his mind as he desperately scrambled to protect them. He’d known that Horizon was going to be a challenging and dangerous assignment, but he’d accepted it knowing that he’d been specifically chosen for the task. His heart sank as the Collectors attacked and he was powerless to stop it from happening. He heard the terrified shrieks. He tried to help them, to move. It was already too late. He heard his own screams reverberating through his mind all in a moment, however. Anger, bitterness, fear, hope, excitement, and confusion washed over him as he spied the name Normandy swooping in from afar.

Questions.

He had too many of them. He unloaded them on her all in a row and felt his anger and hurt bubbling up, nearly of control. Only recently had he begun to piece his life together into something that could potentially be called ‘normal,’ and suddenly the one person who could change it all on a whim was standing in front of him as if nothing had ever happened. He felt shame for having fallen for a woman he thought he’d truly known, guilt for not having looked harder and tracking her down, heartbreak for not being important enough for her to contact, and all of those questions in his mind far outweighed the relief in his heart at seeing her alive and well. He lashed out with heated questions and walked away before she could respond. Somehow he knew that he couldn’t handle the answers.

Accusations.

He couldn’t understand what she was doing. Just when he thought she must have lost her mind, been a puppet of Cerberus, or was simply a fake, he’d see that familiar glimmer in her eye in the vids. He knew that subtle furrow of her brow that meant she was trying to keep her cool when someone was pushing her buttons. All of those tiny quirks he’d once known and loved revealed themselves when she couldn’t have known he was watching. When she returned from an insane run on the Omega 4 Relay, she turned herself and her ship over to the Alliance. She was accused of a good many things, and he wasn’t the only one who was unsure of what to believe. She spoke openly and honestly and loudly about what she’d done and why. He listened from a distance, marveling at the hard-headed reaction to her claims despite the reluctance to suggest a suitable punishment. He suspected that deep down, Alliance brass knew she’d saved them. Again.

Excuses.

Maybe it was the lack thereof that wounded him so deeply. She claimed she didn’t know. She wouldn’t offer any details. Judging by her body language, Shepard was just growing just as irritated as he was with the questions about Cerberus. He was so desperately trying to trust her again, but she was making it difficult. All he wanted was an explanation. He received nothing. They battled through the archives on Mars, and she had all the fire for destroying Cerberus that he had ever known, but none of it made sense. She couldn’t or wouldn’t explain. He promised himself that he’d sit her down for a very difficult talk when the mission was over.

Ringing.

He wasn’t even sure what had happened. One moment, he’d been standing, fighting off some humanoid synthetic. The next, he was having trouble opening his eyes or controlling his limbs. He heard muffled voices, now and again, but the ringing in his own mind was far too loud to make sense of anything. Still, he was sure she was there. He might not have been able to register much, but her tone… that desperate, scared edge to her voice struck him at his core.

Beeping.

Though it was, in all honesty, barely noticeable, the monitors caused pain to surge in his head with every rhythmic noise. He knew that despite the peace in his hospital room, chaos was spreading across the galaxy. Shepard and the Normandy had moved on to head it off at the pass. There was little doubt in his mind that she had been there. She saw to it that he received medical care. She probably had a hard time leaving, too. He realized then, as he sat there with only his thoughts to keep him company, that if he truly was hoping to patch things up with her, he was going to have to start trusting her now. He didn’t really want her to meet her destiny without knowing how he felt. He had a clear understanding, now, that there was no telling how much time either of them had left.

Greetings.

His heart lifted at the sound of her voice as she walked through the doorway. He’d sent her a message, but wasn’t entirely sure he’d get a reply, let alone have her standing here in person so quickly. She was keeping her distance, acting with caution, but she was there. She cared and that was enough to remember that he did, too.

Pleading.

He didn’t hear it so much as he saw it in her eyes as she lowered her gun. He needed a moment to figure out what was happening and to decide who the enemy really was. She was leaving the choice to him, but he knew her well enough to understand that she wouldn’t wait long. He’d have to shoot her or trust her. Neither option was easy, but he knew he could live with the consequences of one over the other. It was then that he turned his gun on those he’d been sworn to protect, hoping he wouldn’t regret opting for the only choice he really had.

Chuckles.

They happened a lot on both sides once he finally made up his mind to trust and they agreed to move forward together. He hadn’t realized all that she’d been through until she slowly began to open up, sharing stories and scars. Some caused him concern, some made him laugh, but the most important part was that she’d lived through it all to tell a very animated tale. For once, despite the terrible enemy they faced and the dangerous situation at hand, he was happy. He suspected that she was, too.

Gasps.

A long time ago, those noises caused him unending heartache. He hadn’t known what it had really meant at the time, hearing her take her final draws from rapidly depleting oxygen. It was a far cry from now, where she mixed his name with sharp breaths behind closed doors. Once, he might have said he never wanted to hear her gasps again. Now, he couldn’t wait to hear more.

Tapping.

She never slept anymore. She’d try, at his request, but he knew that her mind never really shut down long enough for that to be an option. He’d wake up in the middle of the night cycle to find her sitting at her desk typing out reports and messages or reading from a datapad. Those were the good nights. The bad ones, she’d be balled up in the corner shaking, desperately trying to clear the nightmares from her mind. He wondered if she’d ever recover from everything she’d been through, and promised himself to make it his duty to help her with it however he could.

Explosions.

They all knew it would come to this. All his years of training and experience hadn’t prepared him for a massacre like the one unfurling before his eyes. He’d had every intention of staying by her side until the very end, whatever end that would be. When he’d been injured in the run to the beam, he was desperate to hobble after her, knowing that he’d be overtaken by the enemy. She wouldn’t allow him to throw his life away like that. Even as the world exploded around them, she had the clarity and focus to tell him that she loved him. She was going to press on without him and he was absolutely devastated by the realization. He thought he was ready to say goodbye if it really came down to that, but as she ran off while he was ushered to safety, he knew he couldn’t handle it. She wasn’t supposed to go alone.

Sobs.

Even as cries of victory echoed off the metallic walls of the ship around him, there was no stopping the gut-wrenching sobs tearing through his body. The pain and loss he’d felt the first time she’d slipped away were nothing like what he was experiencing now. As the ship was plunged into communications silence and careened across the expanse to who-knows-where, he realized that he couldn’t help her anymore. This was a flight for their lives. In any direction. Far away from its commander, who had made the escape possible. If she needed help, needed him, he wouldn’t be there. It was the ultimate betrayal and desertion. They’d tell tales and sing songs of her victory for the ages, and he and the crew would have to live with the fact that they’d left her to die. He remembered, though, as he worked hard to compose himself and scrubbed tears from his face, that there was always hope when Shepard was involved. She was the only one who could accomplish the impossible and live to tell the tale. He intended to hear it all, while sipping wine hand-in-hand on the porch at the orchard.

He intended to hear it all.


End file.
